


Price of Freedom

by InsaneVoice



Series: That Damn Thief [1]
Category: Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Adult Content, Humor, M/M, POV Red X, Slow Build, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2018-10-22 19:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10704000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneVoice/pseuds/InsaneVoice
Summary: Messing with the Teen Titans seems to be a double-edged sword, on one side, highly entertaining, on the other, well, bad things like getting kidnapped by Deathstroke the Terminator happens.--"...vow to gut whomever poor fuck is responsible for that roof not being up to regulations."





	1. Surprising

**Author's Note:**

> The time frame that I had in mind while writing this was just after the end of the entire series.

Price of Freedom  
\--

“The price of freedom is eternal vigilance.” - Thomas Jefferson.

\--

CH1: Surprising

This is not how I figured my evening would go, but honestly, I’m really not all that surprised. At this point, I’m convinced the world is out to kill me or at the very least make my life hell. My broken bones seem to agree with me, but I suppose things could be worse.

I am still alive after all.

“Next time... when I... tell you... not... to jump... I expect... you to... listen... to me.” I say haltingly and in no small amount of pain through my labored breathing. Hopefully, the breaks are clean and nothing is… out of order. 

“Why would I ever listen to a criminal like you?”

“When... said criminal... tells you.. not to... jump... on a... unstable... roof.” I try to make my tone sound harsh but it comes out more like a wheezing old man, one that used to be one hell of a chain smoker in his youth.

Robin’s starting to look rather concerned beneath his stern I-am-a-hero face before it's wiped off and replaced by anger when Deathstroke and all his armored glory melts out of the shadows.

Sometimes I swear he’s a vampire.

I turn my body towards him automatically, and I would have immediately cursed my reflexes if I could focus on anything other than pain as my world narrows down to a flash of white-hot agony, before abruptly blacking out then slowly lightening to a blurry dimness.

Sounds of a struggle meet my ears before I’m able to focus on what I’m seeing beyond blobs of colors just in time to see the last dregs of Robin's energy bleed away as he succumbs to the chokehold Deathstroke put him in.

Interesting, but not all that surprising--everyone and their cousin twice removed knows about the weird courtship dance those two have going on.

It’s hilarious to watch from a distance.

Keyword: _distance_.

Normally, depending on the client and the contract parameters and my mood, I’ll go out to steal something and may or may not trip the alarms to mess with the Teen Titans for entertainment.

This time was supposed to be an easy and quick job _without_ any shenanigans. All I had to do was get in, snatch a computer chip, get out, drop off the computer chip and get home so I could play with my new ‘baby’ that I ordered last week.

Too bad Deathstroke chose tonight to say hello after being MIA for a few months.

Too bad I got caught in the crossfire.

Everything was going so smoothly too, I was just making my way out of the building when Deathstroke, or who the Teen Titans and the general public know as 'Slade', ran around a corner at the same time I did. The only reason we didn’t collide was that we both dodged out of the way at the last second. Then we just sort of stared at each other which honestly felt a bit awkward, but that was probably just me considering Deathstroke was starting to give off the air of someone studying an interesting bug.

The fact that I seemed to have surprised him for a good second or two made me feel a bit smug though.

Of course, the Titans chose that moment to come barreling around the corner from down the hall in the direction Deathstroke came from. At first, my presence caught them off guard so they froze for a minute with bewildered looks on their faces and various exclamations of confusion, until Robin pulled himself together and called out, “Titans, go!”

He really should come up with something new or better yet, disregard the battle cry all together. It's not even useful to me for pinpointing their direction of attack, I typically already know.

And not just because Cyborg glows in the dark like a nightlight.

Speaking of Cyborg...

Simultaneously Deathstroke and I ducked the sonic cannon fired at as, rolled, and retaliated with our own weapons. Which coincidently, were both exploding types.

Talk about creepy synchronization.

The attack was effective though as the teens were forced into taking shelter behind Raven’s shield least they are reduced to blood splatters and fleshy chunks.

I took that moment to try and sneak away noticing Deathstroke do the same thing.

...In the same direction...

Well if anything I suppose this is a good indicator I’ve been doing things correctly...

But unfortunately no matter how amazing it is to be in the presence of a legend like Deathstroke, I’m also terrified of the guy--with good reason--so I mentally reviewed what I knew of the building’s layout and said, “Well I’d love to stay and chat but I have a prior arrangement to see to.” Then promptly turned down the next hallway.

Deathstroke followed.

I glance nervously at him out of the corner of my eye, “Are we still being weirdly similar or are you just screwing with me?”

“Similar.” The bastard sounds amused and oddly thoughtful.

It’s also ridiculous how sinful his tone of voice can make such an innocent word sound.

Any reply I may have had gets cut off as we dodge a green energy bolt flying at us from behind. “Kids never give up easily do they?” I fling my arm back and let loose a binding ‘x’ at the girl followed up by a slime one--with a new, an improved extra stretchy formula. She dodges the first but is distracted by it enough to be hit by the second and goes down with a splat and a girlish squeal.

Deathstroke and I turn down the next hallway just in time to dodge the projectiles sent at us from Robin. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but the last I checked you were also a kid.” Snorting, I dryly retort, “To you maybe.”

Since when did my mouth decide to become suicidal without my consent?!

I quickly follow up with, “As one of the world's best assassins almost everyone is a kid to you experience-wise.” Even with the mask warping it you can tell my voice is a tad higher than normal betraying my nerves, and considering the dark chuckle that gives me, Deathstroke noticed.

Fate must be briefly smiling upon me because up ahead of us is a large circular room five stories tall with an indoor courtyard below. It also happens to be lined with catwalks on the outside and directly across from us is another hallway leading towards my escape.

Picking up my pace I jump onto the railing and use the new teleporter I rigged to my belt to make it to the other side--a feat I wouldn't have been able to do without the improved range.

Turning I wiggle my fingers at Deathstroke, “Bye-bye.”

I see Deathstroke tilt his head to the side before his attention is stolen by the arrival of a green cheetah trying to maul him from behind before I continue onwards.

Fate has apparently put me back on her shit list considering a few turns later a swirling black portal thing pops up in front of me to reveal Raven, or Princess Purple as I like to call her mostly just to piss her off, but also because it fits her so damn well considering her Father is a Demon King (and wasn't that an interesting team meeting to listen in on?) and because _purple_ , enough said.

“Hello lovely, I’d love to stay and chat but I’m on a bit of a tight schedule this evening.” I charge at her and use the shield she puts up to block my fist to flip myself over her and continue on my journey down the hallway.

Turning right at the next junction I find myself in a windowed walkway that serves as a shortcut between buildings. Down below I can see the battle waging between Deathstroke and the male members of the Teen Titans.

Looks like the slime put the alien girl out of commission for the rest of the fight, nice to know the upgrades are working better than I thought they would.

Once again Princess Purple appears in front of me but this time I fling a slime ‘x’ at her which she promptly blocks but that's ok, it was meant to be a distraction and a way to obscure her vision so I could get close enough to punch her in the face without her blocking.

What? I’m not sexist! I know a female is completely capable of kicking my ass.

…And this one can certainly take a punch if her current teeth grinding, growling, _conscious_ , and overall _pissed off_ form is any indication...

Must be the demon blood.

Princess Purple’s powers wrap around my body pinning everything below my neck in place before I find myself flying through the air and meeting brief resistance until the window gives out and I’m suddenly plummeting towards the ground five stories below.

...My special brand of chivalry is going to be the death of me one day...

Quickly I hit the button for the teleporter, it sparks ominously and for a single heartbeat I curse myself for grabbing the prototype belt when I know damn well it's not ready for the field yet, but then I feel the familiar jolt and in the next second I reappear a safe distance above the ground. Landing, I flip once backward to keep my balance and end up almost shoulder to shoulder with Deathstroke.

_Oh, joy..._

“Heh, heh... Fancy meeting you here.”

“Red X! Since when did you start working for Slade?! I thought you worked alone!” There is a mocking edge to that last comment. Turning sideways I can see Princess Purple joining her teammates and the sneer twisting Robin’s features. “I do work alone, kid. Trust me I’m just as surprised as you about the current situation.” Forming a plan I grab a few smoke bombs. Muttering to myself, “One which I intend to get out of.” 

Throwing the bombs down a large plume of smoke provides immediate cover for a fast retreat. I can feel Deathstroke’s presence follow me briefly before suddenly veering off to the side. I only have a few seconds to contemplate this when I hear familiar footfalls behinds me. 

It would seem Robin has caught up and Deathstroke--the bastard--is using me as a distraction to escape.

Thinking quickly I run to the nearest ally and using the convenient handholds provided by the fire escape, quickly make it onto the building. Running across it I leap onto the next building about the same time Robin swings onto the rooftop behind me. 

What follows is a very typical and honestly boring chase.

...Until we make it into the old parts of the industrial district.

Jumping onto a new building I make it about halfway across before my sense of gravity suddenly shifts sideways as the middle of the roof starts to give in before stopping with a long ominous creak and whine of old wood and metal.

At first, I’m relieved but then I hear Robin catching up to my location.

Turning around I call out, but Robin--the idiot-- _doesn't stop_ and it's too late to do anything else because the ominous sounds are back and they sound _angry_.

Fortunately for Robin, he is close enough to the edge to grab onto a sturdy handhold so he's safe for the most part.

Unfortunately for me, the damn teleporter _isn’t working_ and the next thing I know I’m sprawled across what used to be the roof and struggling to breathe.

Fate really did put me on her shit list--while I am, admittedly, the idiot that was using equipment that wasn't field-ready, Deathstroke and the Teen Titans showing up _sure as hell wasn't supposed to happen_.

Jerking myself out of my reflexion I observe Deathstroke make an odd gesture with his shoulder and head that looks more like a muscle spasm than anything. A second later one of the bots that I now notice has formed a semi-circle around us--probably from when I was unconscious--steps forward and takes Robin’s limp form from him.

Turning, Deathstroke strides over towards me.

_Oh shit._


	2. Sometimes waking up just isn’t worth it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red wakes up only to immediately regret it. His muscles are sore, _everything_ is blindingly white, all Robin does is growl like a dog, and his dick hurts because-
> 
> He's still not thinking about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, comments are an excellent motivator. And of course when I go to update the chapter is when the site has issues.

Price of Freedom  
\--

“Believe only half of what you see and nothing that you hear.” - Edgar Allan Poe

\--  
CH 2: Sometimes waking up just isn’t worth it

When I come to my first thoughts are somewhere along the lines of _everything fucking itches,_ then, _oh good I can breathe,_ after that are thoughts centered around _shity bright environment,_ and finally after that are many colorful swear words because I just realized--

“Good Morning, Red X.”

_...Fuck…_

Squinting I can see Deathstroke standing at the foot of the neighboring bed, that upon a closer inspection, and to my brief surprise, contains an unmasked--and gagged--Robin.

To say he’s currently trying to set Deathstroke on fire with the power of his glare alone would be an understatement.

I’m also now _very_ aware of the fact that underneath the hand I have pressed against my face _all I can feel is skin._ In fact, I’m fairly certain that under the sheet I’m not wearing _anything!_ Glancing down I can, in fact, see that the sheet has been disturbed enough to reveal the majority of my, bandaged but still very exposed, torso.

...And is that a catheter-

~~_Oh my God Deathstroke touched my-!_ ~~

I’m not going to think about that.

“...Hi, uh… Morning. I hope you don’t mind if I ask questions, three questions actually. One, where are my clothes? How long have I been unconscious? And I’m not going to kill myself if I try to sit up am I?”

I probably should have asked the second and third questions first, (as well as the reason I’m here in the first place but honestly I’m just grateful I’m not dead) but damn it I’m naked while injured in a potentially hostile environment and that makes me really fucking uncomfortable especially in my-

Ok still not thinking about that, or at least not the part about-

“Your suit had to be removed for treatment and due to the extent of your injuries I had to put you in a medically induced coma for the majority of the healing process, that was twelve days ago.”

So that means _really fucking good drugs_ or possibly nanotech.

“As everything has healed very well you should be fine to start physical therapy sometime soon.” Here his tone turns distinctly dangerous. “But of course, if you do something… Stupid...”

Deathstroke ignores the muffled growl that comes from the direction of the other occupant of the room, but I tilt my head to look over, and now that my eyes have adjusted I can see that the kid isn’t just gagged but also restrained with thick straps across his… everything really. I didn’t notice them before because they’re white so they blended in with the surrounding… white...

Even among my own thoughts that sounds lame.

But speaking of, why is everything so fucking _white?!_ I thought Deathstroke’s MO was large industrial areas with a distinct _lack_ of anything bright, and that includes lighting, plus this place actually looks almost homely even with the medical equipment and overall sterile air the place gives off because that is definitely a couch against the opposite wall and on it is _artfully placed throw pillows_.

My full attention snaps back to Deathstroke who is now standing at the end of my bed and looking rather intimidating with his arms clasped behind his back. Deathstroke pauses like the dramatic jackass he is before leaning forward and continuing with, “You will _not_ enjoy the consequences.”

I immediately raise my right hand in a gesture of vow. “I swear to Sancus that I’ll be a good boy.”

A pause.

“On second thought I swear that I’ll try to be good as I have no guarantee that I can control the verbal vomit that comes out of my mouth but besides that I’m harmless and absolutely do not have the ability to unlock things when you are not looking, and before you say anything, no, breaking fingers does not work, people have tried.”

Technically only about half of them were broken while the rest were dislocated joints that I had to pop back in place but I’m not _really_ lying as I’m certain I can, in fact, do it with more sustained damage (Depending on how bad it is at least, can't really do much of anything if all have are nubs).

Deathstroke gives no visual reaction to that besides tilting his head to the side like he’s trying to figure me out and almost absent-mindedly finishes with, ”And no, sitting up will not kill you as your bones have fused back together, but they are weak in some areas so I don’t advise trying to do anything physical without my supervision.”

Robin, on the other hand, is now looking at me like I grew a second head from my ass.

Speaking of Robin and physical assets.

I smirk and purr, “You have _very_ pretty eyes.”

Now he’s glaring at me and I’m pretty sure that was a muffled ‘fuck you’ which only serves to make my expression turn a tad more devious and I open my mouth to say-

“Red X.”

“Yessir.”

I know that tone, that’s the tone of warning that promises bruises and cracked bones if not obeyed; and as I’ve had enough of that happen already, I do the smart thing and shut the fuck up.

At least for as long as I can anyway...

“...Play nice.” He sounds oddly pleased and possibly surprised. I wonder if that's because I obeyed him so quickly--as I seriously doubt the kid has done much of that considering the whole restrained-to-a-bed-and-gagged thing-

~~_Kinky._ ~~

-or because of my blurted ‘sir’? He does seem to be the type to enjoy his authority, and besides psychologically speaking getting us to call him ‘sir’ will eventually help make us start to subconsciously look to him as the boss, and, well, Stockholm Syndrome is a thing.

But don’t I recall something about the whole apprentice-

Wait.

“Is this another apprentice attempt?! I thought you were done with that!” If I sound half-way like an excited fanboy and half-way terrified, it’s not my fault because if I’m right I might be able to learn what he teaches Robin, but that also means I’m _extra baggage_ and I _**really** don’t want to be considered extra baggage_.

Somewhere in the back of my brain beyond the hysterics I can see Deathstroke, who was fiddling with something I can’t see, stop and turn slightly to glance over at me before going back to whatever it is he’s doing, not at all surprised that I know about the ‘Apprentice Plans’ considering the number of times I’ve come across his spyware in Titans Tower.

Although Robin is certainly looking at me suspiciously.

“Yes, it was a rather spontaneous decision on my part, but I do believe this time things are not going to be the same as my last two… attempts…” The tone of that last word is rather hard to describe, but I liken it to that of a man who has seen some serious shit but still has hope to move forward.

Of course, that may just be me trying to be poetic.

I think I failed.

Apparently done fiddling, Deathstroke turns fully around with a… bracelet?

“Now that you are healed enough to be awake you will wear this so I can know where you are at all times, and if you try to access somewhere you are not supposed to or escape it will notify me and give you a warning by turning red. If you continue I will use the nanoprobes-”

I knew it!

“-in your system to _force_ you to stop as Robin has found out the hard way, which is why he now has restricted privileges.”

Robin seems to think that's an understatement if the way he’s growling and straining against his bonds like a feral dog is any indication.

“Do you understand?”

The glint in his eye is intense and certainly doesn’t say I can refuse, so I do the logical thing and just hold up my right wrist for him.

The bracelet easily slips on before changing its shape to form around my wrist while tightening nearly all the way to the skin making it impossible to slip off without cutting off the hand. The design is very simple and looks basically like a tube of black metal but is surprisingly light in weight and there are also no visible seams.

“Oh, wait. Is it..? It is. What is with you and nanotech? And I thought you were using this thing to try to kill the Titans, not to confine their leader and a random thief--not that I’m not grateful about the whole being alive thing, and I know you said it was a spontaneous decision, but sometimes you really don’t make any sen-

A hand digging into the flesh of my cheeks cuts off the rest of my ramblings.

Above me I can see Deathstroke’s lone eye practically _glittering_ in its intensity. “I agree that some of my plans have been… flawed. Which is why this time things are going to be different.” Deathstroke’s tone, that sounded rather predatory, changes back to being professional. “Now that you’re awake we will be moving away from the Titans--minus Robin who is currently a bit of an... experiment.”

Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all, and Robin must have zero self-preservation instincts at all considering the way he’s _still growling_.

But what about m-

“As for my apprentice, I’m choosing someone who already has a criminal background.”

Screw the experiment comment, _that_ sounds ominous especially because the dangerous, predatory tone is back and I _swear_ the only bit of warmth I can feel is, ironically, coming from the hand that is now _cupping my jaw_ while the thumb _lightly drags across my lips, sending goosebumps dancing down my spine._

My brain just sort-of stalls for a moment.

“Red X, I’m making _you_ my apprentice.”

Half muffled by his thumb I can do is weakly squeak out, “You can just call me Red.” because honestly, it was either that or a lame ‘ok’. But hey, at least I’m not extra baggage… on second thought that probably just means I need to keep the kid from getting himself killed.

_Fuck my life._

“Good. Now Red, I believe it's time for a proper bath.”

...Doesn’t that means the catheter will be remo-

And that’s when Deathstroke pulls down the sheet to do exactly that.

\--

**Omakes:**

 

"Do I want to know why Robin’s gagged?"

With a perfectly innocent tone, Deathstroke responds with, “He used his teeth.”

“...Was that an innuendo?”

I’m pretty sure Robin is dying over there if the choking sounds are any indication.

\--

“Is this another apprentice attempt?! I thought you were done with that!” If I sound half-way like an excited fanboy and half-way terrified, it’s not my fault because if I’m right, I might be able to learn what he teaches Robin, but that also means I’m _extra baggage_ and I _really don’t want to be considered extra baggage._

Somewhere in the back of my brain beyond the hysterics, I can see Deathstroke, who was fiddling with something I can’t see, stop and turn slightly to glance over at me before going back to whatever it is he’s doing. “No, well in the beginning it was, but now all I want to do..” He turns around and-

_-Is that a purple dildo?!_

“...is fuck you.”

The strangled sound that comes out of my mouth can only be described as a squeak.

Robin, on the other hand, is strangely quiet and when I glance over I can see that he’s glaring but is still _blushing_ and acting like-

“What the fuck have you two been doing right next to me while I was unconscious?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify the part about the nanotech thing trying to kill the Titans for those who don't know/remember, it's a reference to the last episode (Things Change) of the animated series.


	3. Scrub-a-Dub-Dub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modesty is for pussies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **IMPORTANT** : This chapter has been stuck in the same incomplete state since I last updated this story and it's starting to annoy the crap out of me. I'm posting it and a somewhat related, just as incomplete, drabble collection because I know they will stay like this unless I get more motivation and I know from experience that positive feedback provides that.  
>  **EDIT: 12/14/17** Still not done but I'm updating it anyway; I feel like I need to show _something_ considering how long it has been since I posted the last _complete_ chapter.  
>  **EDIT: 3/16/18** For some reason my brain forced me to wake up and continue working on this at about 5 in the morning despite the fact that I'd much rather be asleep. _(This is far from the first time I've updated this chapter within the last three months but I felt like sharing my lack of sleep for some reason)._

Price of Freedom  
\--

"A boy can learn a lot from a dog: obedience, loyalty, and the importance of turning around three times before lying down." - Robert Benchley

\--  
CH 3: Scrub-a-Dub-Dub

I’m fairly certain that my brain shut down for a minute or two because the next thing I’m fully aware of is a rhythmic rocking motion and strong hands curled underneath my thighs and around my back--holding me pressed into someone's chest.

_Deathstroke_

Vaguely I note that the hall we are passing through does, in fact, appear the way I know Deathstroke’s bases are typically designed--metal everywhere, sparse lighting, and a very military-esque atmosphere.

Thankfully I can also feel a sheet wrapped loosely around the majority of my body. Although not much, at least it does make me feel slightly less violated ~~_and not in the fun way_~~.

“As the medical wing only has a small shower we will be using the bath attached to my room so I can provide proper assistance.”

Nevermind.

“That assistance entail leaning me up against a wall and waiting outside for any sound of crashing?” My voice is definitely hitting that high pitched warble sound people do when they try to suggest something but _know_ they are going to be shot down but project tentative hope anyway.

Deathstroke just _looks_ at me.

I can practically _feel_ resignation creeping up my spine.

Up ahead of us to the right an electronic door hisses open allowing Deathstroke undelayed entry to a utilitarian bedroom.

I take a moment to spare a thought to the ridiculousness of Deathstroke fiddling with automatic door timings so he doesn’t have to bother with something so mundane as a doorknob.

Long strides eat up the ground to the doorway opposite of the entrance and inside is, unsurprisingly, a bathroom. Deathstroke sets me down on the counter next to the sink _like a child_.

And okay, that annoys me a bit, I’m not a kid.

~~_Never have been._ ~~

He could have sat me down on the toilet seat, at least then my feet would touch the ground.

“Now are you done being difficult or are you going to remove this so I can take care of your hygiene?” He gestured towards my only means of modesty with a careless twitch of his pointer and middle fingers.

Definitely not ready to rip off that band-aid yet, I do what I do best: run my mouth.

“Excuse me, but I rather like my half-hearted toga thank you very much. It’s very fashionable, ya know, like those runway models who wear trash bags.” Deathstroke just stares at me and I’m fairly certain his face is just as blank as his mask, I give him a sympathetic look in return. “High fashion is a world comprised of far too much weird bullshit for fashion designers to be entirely sane.”

Deathstroke continues to stare for a moment longer then apparently decides he doesn’t need to dignify that with a response because he turns dismissively to fiddle with the, in my opinion, overly complicated controls of the bath.

What the hell do all those knobs even _do?!_

And I swear half of our interactions consist of Deathstroke just staring at me in response to whatever crap that spews out of my mouth…

“The male body is something I’m quite familiar with Red.” Here he looks over his shoulder at me. “Besides, who do you think undressed you in the first place? If the reason you are delaying is a desire to hide your… markings, I’ve already seen them.”

I'd actually forgotten about my tattoos--it’s my _skin_ I have the same awareness of them as I do the many tiny moles dotted across my everything.

~~_At least I don’t have to worry about him understanding their meanings._ ~~

Reluctantly I start to unwind myself from my burrito-like state as _slowly_ as possible. “The bandages?”

“Can go in the trash. I haven't needed to check the state of your external wounds--even where the bone poked through--for a while now; nothing more than pink scar tissue remains. The bandages were for supporting your bones but I confirmed during my last scan of you that they are no longer needed.”

Bits of my ribs sticking out of me is certainly not an image I want floating around in my mind--distinctly remember trying _not_ to think about it at all--but I have to ask, “What about my internal wounds? I remember tasting blood.”

Done with the water controls Deathstroke turns back to Red. “Remarkably none of your ribs punctured anything vital; as for the blood, it would seem that you bit the inside of your cheek sometime during your fall.”

Well, that’s certainly a relief.

Deathstroke presses a button embedded in the wall causing a rush of water to rapidly start to fill the, to my standards, large tub. I very carefully do not tense but I can't help but eye first the running water then Deathstroke like he's going to try to drown me.

“You sure I can't do this myself? I promise to call if I really need any help." I know he's not going to relent but, hey, its worth a try right?

"The water's not going to stay warm forever Red, would you rather be washed now or when it's cold?"

I can't help but whine a little, "This is going to be mortifying, I haven't been treated like this since I was, like, _two_."

Deathstroke's mask expresses zero sympathies.

Resigned to my fate I look down at the bandages covering my chest, "You got a knife to cut these off with?"

A swift movement and a bare whisper of metal against my skin leave me looking slightly stunned while I poke at my barely there new scars. "When you said new scar tissue I was expecting something more gruesome but they're not even raised."

"The joys of advanced technology." Deathstroke's voice is remarkably dry.

I look at my wrist, specifically at the band of 'smart metal' imprisoning me, then back at Deathstroke and say equally as dry, "Yippee."

Unable to delay any longer I slide myself off the counter--cautiously, I'd much rather my feet greet the floor than my face--and allow gravity to pull the sheet the rest of the way from my body.

...And now I'm naked in a small room with a man, whose only body part I can see is a singular eye, who is about to get me wet while he touches me all over...

I'm honestly trying my best to _not_ think about any of this in a sexual manner but its proving to be very _~~hard~~_ difficult.

I'm harshly forced out of my thoughts when experimentally shifting my weight causes the muscles in my left calf to spasm. Hissing at the sudden pain, I reach behind me to gain stability from the sink cabinet as I begin to fall but just as the tips of my fingers graze the countertop I'm pressed face first into an armored chest by a strong hand placed just above the small of my back. Surprisingly I do not act in a negative manner to having my personal space suddenly and thoroughly violated while vulnerable, but that might have something to do with the handful of masculine muscle I instinctively grabbed or the warm thigh contrasting with the slightest cool touch of armor between my legs.

Trying to not think about any of this in a sexual manner is proving to be _very fucking difficult._

**\--From this point on the story is in a rough state--**

Finally gets off counter does so carefully but when he shifts his weight around experimentally his left leg buckles (the muscles were fucked up due to some wood making itself a home) and he ends up pressed against Slade’s chest with one of his arms holding him up at the small of his back, and while the armor isn't very comfortable--something he somehow missed while half out of it earlier--a part of Red just wants to squirm but that might be the two handfuls of muscle he's got is going to his _~~head-~~_

 _-brain_.

_~~Damnit don't think about anything that can be associated with your dick!~~ _

“Woah, I can do that myself thank you very much, nineteen is still a teen and if you keep going it's going to get very awkward very fast--probably mostly on my part because you seem to be the type to be completely unphased by spontaneous boners-- _fuck_ , I'm rambling. Point is, you are not washing my junk so gimme.”

Why does Slade even have a bath? I'm suddenly overcome with the image of Slade in full gear lounging in the tub while it's full of pink-tinted bubbles.

Cue insane giggling.

Partly to hide nervousness and partly because I’m honestly curious, “Can _you_ tell what color my hair is, I always thought it was light brown but then I’ve had a few people call me dirty blonde.”

Slade brushes a hand through loose curls, nails lightly scratching the scalp and lets out a small considering sound. "The gold does go all the way down to the roots so I suppose you are technically dirty blonde, but if you were a target I'd still mark you down as light brown and possibly make a notation about the highlights as they do seem to make you appear blonde in hash direct lighting. Notations like that can prove useful, for an example, if you were, say, a mark that I had to take out during a theater production--in that scenario I would have to be more careful with identifying marks as it wouldn't be very professional if I took out the understudy by accident, now would it?"

Once Red is back in the White Room with Robin Slade is like 'oh, by the way, call me Master' and Robin is like 'fuck no' and Red is like 'just Master because Master Deathstroke is a bit of a mouthful but Master Slade or Master Will-' Slade shuts him up and leans in 'I don't care as long as its not that last one, wouldn't want to ruin Robin's fun now would we? Not after years of research dedicated to trying to figure me out.'

Out of bath to a new bedroom to end the day with some emotionally recharging shuteye but before that is, of course, some tired ramblings because the fuckers who say they're so tired they're out before their heads even hit the damn pillow are dirty liars.

Red thinks back to what got him into this mess and vows to gut whomever poor fuck is responsible for that roof not being up to regulations.

And with that this day is finally fucking over.

NOTE: Slade knows that the Teen Titans don't have the means to find them while they are still in Jump and that because of Robin's rocky relationship with The Bat and The Bat's familiarity/confidence in Robin's and his team's capabilities The League won't try to interfere unless asked--Slade knows this because of what happened with The Brotherhood of Evil. The base that Slade plans to move them to is something he had custom-built to be concealed from The League (including lead lined outer walls made to block a Kryptonians' supervision) back when he starting 'courting' Robin.

NOTE: Red is given super powered nutrition supplements that only make sense in make-believe universes to counteract the malnutrition he suffered in his youth and goes through a growth spurt over the next few months--Physical therapy will evolve into regular massage sessions to help with the aches from not only the growth but also the combat training (it will also act as a time Slade will make sure the supplements don't have any adverse results).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever I write for this I have to make sure I go back and make certain I call Slade 'Deathstroke', it's vaguely annoying and I'd rather just call the man Slade (fewer letters) but Red knows about 'Deathstroke The Badass Assassin' more than he does 'Slade The Adult Villian Who Fights _Teenagers_ ' so... blah.


End file.
